


Climbing for the Black

by Treerat



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Military, Test aircraft, based on historical event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treerat/pseuds/Treerat
Summary: Been struggling for some time to write something, ANYTHING, worthwhile.Then, I came across this video.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCVN2uLbVe0&t=90s





	Climbing for the Black

"To err in mammalian, to forgive is Devine.  Neither is Air Force policy." Unknown

 

10 December, 1963

Edwoods Air Force Base, CF, Federated States

 

               As the pilot did his walk around inspection of the plane, a deer stag kept pace with him.   The cervine was an environmental tech. and he held the portable air conditioning unit that did its best to keep the flyer cool in the full pressure suit he wore.  The plane was a modified F-104 Starfighter, one of the fastest jets of the day.  This one, designated as an NF-104A, had been heavily modified for a special set of test flights that, if successful, would lead to the plane becoming an astronaut training vehicle.  It, tail # 60762, had made a number of flights over the last few weeks, getting ever closer to the ‘magic’ altitude of 108,000 + feet.  At that height, it was above over 99% of the Earth’s atmosphere.  Of course, that presented a maneuverability problem as there was not enough air for even this plane’s moderately expanded surfaces to ‘grab’ hold of, or to keep the main engine running.  As such, a Reaction Control System (RCS) had been installed.  It used hydrogen-peroxide to power thrusters on the wingtips and in the nose cone of the fighter.  The radar, internal gun system, and other unnecessary equipment had been removed to lighten the weight and make room for the RCS and other changes.  The nose thrusters were used to get the craft pointed downwards so that the engine would keep turning (“windmilling”) to keep hydraulic pressure and some power going.  Once back in denser air, the windmilling turbine (engine) would be relit.  As the engine was shut down at some 85,000 feet, there was the need for something else to keep thrust to the plane to reach the desired altitude.  This was in the form of a small rocket engine built into the lowest part of the vertical stab., just above the jet engine tailpipe, of the tail.  Once ignited, the rocket provided 6,000 pounds of thrust for about 100 seconds.  Also, a nitrogen tank was installed to provide pressurization to the cockpit when the engine’s bleed air function stopped when the turbine’s fuel was stopped.  

              His walk around done, the pilot took the forms from the crew chief and signed the section that said he had done the inspection.  The chief, a somewhat rotund, for his species, cheetah, initialed the witness block by the flyer’s entry.  That done, the pilot, a buck hare, climbed the ladder, then settled himself into the cockpit.  The chief mounted the ladder and helped strap the occupant in.  That done, he disconnected the air conditioning hose from the suit and fasten the onboard one to the connection.  Dismounting the ladder, the cheetah removed it and set it aside.  Standing off to the left side, he nodded to his assistant and he powered up the blow starter unit.  When it reached 210 PSI there was enough air forcing its way through the turbine for it to be spinning enough for light off.  Once the engine was up and running, the unit was powered down and the hose disconnected.  Several minutes passed as the lapine ran through his checklist and looked over the indicators on the main instrumentation panel.  Everything looked good.  He gave the crew chief the ‘pull chocks’ signal whereupon the feline gave the same signal to the crew mammals standing by the main landing gears.  Chocks pulled, the chief made the come/roll forward motions with his hands and arms then signaled to do a left turn.  That done, he threw a salute to the cockpit and the mammal inside returned it.  The last thing that happened was that the cheetah touched the wingtip as the plane rolled by.  The ‘good luck touch’ it was called.

               “Funny, for a group of mammals so tech. oriented we have more than our share of superstitions,” thought the hare.

               Once at the end of his designated runway, he pulled the canopy shut and locked it down.

               “Tower, this is Air Force Flight 101263B, ready for takeoff.”

               “Roger, 63B.  Wind still at 6 knots down runway.  You are cleared for takeoff,” came the reply.

               “Roger, Tower.”

               “Find the Black, Col,” the controller said.

               Brakes engaged, the throttle was slowly advanced to close to military power.  Releasing brakes, the pilot pushed the throttle to afterburner (AB).  When speed was high enough, the nose lifted up then the rest of the plane followed.  Off the ground, a gloved hand paw jacked the gear lever into the “UP” position and, in a few seconds, the undercarriage extensions were in their respective wells and the doors closed up.  With that resistance removed, the interceptor accelerated more and the plane was kept low for a couple of more miles to allow its energy to increase.  Then, the real climb started.  “Fading” the throttle back to Military power (AB ‘ate up’ a lot of fuel), the flyer eased up to an altitude of 36,000 ft.  There, the throttle was put into AB once more and the plane went into a shallow dive.  This built up more and more energy and when the Mach gauge read 1.9 the AR2-3 rocket engine was fired, adding its 6,000 lbs of thrust to the J-79’s 16,000 lbs.  At Mach 2.1 the control stick was hauled back and the aircraft pitched up to a climbing angle of 50 degrees and nearly 3.5 G’s pushed the buck back into his seat.  Through it all, he made his radio calls to let the ground mammals and the pilots of the chase planes know what was going on.  At about 63,000 ft, those chase planes, unable to keep up, broke off.  Plane and pilot were now on their own.

               “Shouldn’t be bad,” pilot thought. “The morning flight ran like clockwork.  Just going to add a few more thousand feet to this one.”

               He planned to make his big flight tomorrow.  Another NF-104A (tail # 60756) had established a record altitude run of 120,800 feet just four days before.  The hare really would like to match, even top, that.

               “Funny how mammals think that test pilots are a bunch of reckless “cowboys”; doing tests off the cuff.”

               The reality was that they were, with very, very few exceptions, anything but.  The testing routines were set so that data could be gained and compared while doing similar flight profiles over and over again.  Most of the time, the changes to those profiles were minor, allowing for more (or even less) power, velocity, and/or altitude variations.  The one time, years back, he had gotten ‘off script’ in a big way. The data gained was almost useless because he was so far off the set parameters.  The resulting tail chewing, never louder than normal voice level, he got made said appendage try to implode to escape.  Even now, the memory made his behind tighten up in reflex.

               “Attention on mission, long ears!” he self-reprimanded.

               The engine overheat light came on.  No surprise with the demands being put on it.  The altimeter read 84,700 feet.  He pulled the throttle back and cut fuel to the straining turbine.  They were on rocket power alone.  Looking out the windscreen, he saw the late noon sky darkening.  At 100,000 feet it was black as space itself and he could see the curve of the Earth.

               “At 104,000 feet, bringing the nose down for reentry,” he called over the radio.

               A touch on the side control fired the dual thrusters on the top of the nosecone.  The nose dropped some…but not enough.  Another, slightly longer, ‘hit’ on the thruster control; almost nothing.

               “Pellets!” he thought.  “If I don’t get the nose down…”

               Then he’d, almost literally, back slide into the atmosphere.  No air through the intakes to windmill the turbine.  Even now, he could feel the stiffening of the control to the flight surfaces as the compressor slowed down.

               “No hydraulics, no control.”

               At this time, most lapines would be in a full panic.  Not him, not yet.  Once more, he hit the thruster control, keeping it on.  There were a few more degrees of angle change, then the fuel was exhausted.  Then, the plane went into a flat spin.

               “Panic time!!” his old instincts yell.

               “Not yet!” he tossed back.

               Keeping his eyes on the instrument panel (looking outside, now, was a guaranteed vertigo “kiss of death”) with particular attention to the altimeter.  The plane was falling at a rate of 9,000 ft a minute.

               “Bud, I couldn’t get the nose down and am in a flat spin,” he called to the ocelot pilot of a T-33 chase plane below.

               “Not good,” came the reply.  “Going to try the drag chute?”

               “Check.  Will pop it at about 30,000 feet.”

               It took almost seven minutes to get to that altitude.  Once there, he fired the chute.  It deployed and yanked the plane out of its spin.  Then, the safety link, set to break at a speed of 180 mph, detached and the chute was gone.  He needed 300 + miles per hour of speed of air through the intakes for a relight. One hundred and eighty wasn’t any ways near enough.  The 104 resumed its flat spin.

               “I’m out of options, Bud.”

               “Punch it when you feel its right.  We can replace the plane,” the spotted cat called back.

               At 8,500 feet, he drew in his legs against the front of the seat then, with both hands, reached down between his thighs to grab hold of the ejection lanyard…and yanked.  Charges went off that blew the canopy clear, then the seat’s rocket fired and it blasted it, and him, clear of the falling fighter and the seat detaches.  Things go from bad to worse!  Meant for getting out at speeds of 400 to 500 mph, the current speed of about 180 mph means the when the little drag chute deployed, that was to pull the main chute out, it didn’t have enough air pressure to do its job.  It took a fall of another few thousand feet to get enough speed to achieve the needed pressure.  When it does fully deploy, something smashes into the helmet’s visor.  Pieces of the visor hit the left side of his face.  Fortunately, none struck the eyeball.  Then, the burning.  His face was on fire and suffocating smoke filled the helmet.

               “Get the visor open.  Get it open!” he thought.

               Bringing up his left hand, then his right one, and together he manages to get the visor up.  That choking smoke clears but the hurt on his face and, now, his left hand, went on.  With one eye open, he scanned the area as he came down.  There’s the juncture of highway 466 and route 6.  He wasn’t that far from the base.  The med chopper was likely already on the way.  Ground coming up and he readied himself for the landing.  Hit, collapse, roll, stand up.  All that drop training had him doing it without any conscious thought involved.  Stripping out of the chute harness was next.  Next, he grabbed the chute and began rolling it up.  It was then that he saw that some of the shroud cords were burned, some more than halfway through.

               “What the fur and fluff happened to them?!” he said aloud.

               Chute rolled up, he, then, got the helmet off, no mean task considering the pain in his left hand.  The sound of tires screeching to a halt got his attention.  Looking that way, he saw a stopped car.  A mammal, a bag in one hand and something rolled up under one arm, ran towards him.

               “How you feeling, guy?” the vulpine asked.

               “Like Hell!” came the reply.

               “You look it!” said the tod.  “Lay down!  I need to look you over and treat for shock!”

               “Huh?  You a doctor?” he asked as, knees a little shaky, he sat down on the ground.

               “As a matter of fact….”

 

               Edwoods AFB hospital:

               As was her habit when her mate was on a test flight she waited close to the test center.  The sudden tensing up of some of the personnel there told her that something was wrong.  A cape buffalo came up to her.

               “Ma am, you got two choices,” he said.  “Wait at home or at the hospital.”

               She chose the latter.  If he was alive, they’d bring him there.  From there she made a phone call.

               “Fangmeyer, could you sit with the kits for a few more hours?  I’m going to be delayed for a while,” she said.

               “No problem,” said the tigress.

               She knew better then to ask for any details over an unsecured phoneline.

               “Thanks.  Will call or see you later.”

               She took up station by the ambulance entrance.  Barely moments later, one arrived and the med. techs rushed up to it.  Killing the desire to run up and see, she stayed clear.

               “You should have seen it!  By the time we landed, that fox had him down with his legs propped up and upper part of the suit cut off of him!  Had treated his burns and had his vitals down to give us as soon as we got to them.  Damned col’s lucky feet were working overtime; lands in open desert and has an experienced doctor right there!” she heard a wolf say.

               She saw him as the gurney was rolled by her; bare from the waist up with the left side of his face bandaged up as was his left hand.  One of the nurses came to her.

               “Hun, it’ll be a couple of hours, maybe more.  You can go home and wait, we’ll call you,” she said.

               “I’ll wait here,” was the reply.

 

               The last thing he remembered was the chopper doc telling him he was giving him a shot of morphine to dull his pain.  Stressed, exhausted, he lapsed into unconsciousness.  The next thing he was aware of was the smell of antiseptic in his nose, the scent that said “hospital” to anyone with any experience with them.  Cracking his one good eye open, he confirmed that he was, indeed, in a hospital room.

               “So, I survived,” he mumbled aloud.

               “That you did,” came a beloved voice off to his left.

               He had to turn his head to see her.  There his mate sat beside the bed.  Cool and calm, she regarded him with her pale blue eyes.

               “Hi hun.  Sorry to be late getting back,” he said.

               Devine Creator!  Did that ever sound lame!

               “Considering what you’ve been through, I’d say you’ve done well to be back,” she said.  “I’m told that you are the only buck who could almost land on top of an experienced doctor in the middle of nowhere when he needed one the most.”

               “Yeahhhhh.  I hope they got his name and address.  I’d like to thank him myself.”

               “They did and I’ve got it.  So, you’ll get your chance.”

               Silence fell between them.  For all her outward appearance, Col. Jack Savage knew his snow furred mate was terribly worried, shook, by what had happened.  He wouldn’t blame her if she asked him to retire.

 

               Skye looked over her worse for wear lapine mate.  The urge to ask, demand, plead with him to call it quits was nearly overwhelming.

               “He’d do it,” she thought. “But….”

 

               Skye put one paw on Jack’s shoulder, then leaned forward so she could look him close into his one good eye.

               “So, after you recover, when do you think you’ll want to climb for the black again?” she asked.

               God of GODS!!!  How he _loved_ this vixen!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based, in the main, on the events of 10 December, 1963 of Col. Chuck Yeager in his flight of the NF-104A, tail # 60762, that subsequently went out of control and crashed.
> 
>  
> 
> I endeavored to stay as close to the real events as possible. Things change some after Jack hits the ground.


End file.
